


I remember

by Kitkross



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 05:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkross/pseuds/Kitkross
Summary: BOFA fix-it ...all our dwarves survive the battle but our king and princes are most damaged. This is a few moments shared between hearts while they heal.





	I remember

His hands brushed through soft, clean fur where it began its cascade off the edge of the bed. Not as thick as the sleeping furs they travled with on the road, but thick enough to raise the sleeping dwarf a mighty distance from the cold stone. Enough that a tall stool was brought for the little hobbit holding his vigil.   
Bilbo took his time settling himself. Fussing with the stool, dragging it closer, then pulling it back a bit when his knees contacted harshly with the edge of the cot. Fiddling with the buttons on his fresh clean waist coat. Smoothing the wrinkles out. Then smoothing them again.   
Situated at last he slumped atop the stool releasing a heavy puff of a breath. He examined the slumbering dwarf. Long tumbles of ebony hair cascaded across the thin pillows only to disappear into the deep black fur. The streaks of silver lay mostly hidden in the tangled waves. Shallow slow breaths moved the pale bandaged chest, only partially visible beneath the many blankets.   
His skin burned like the forges of his great kingdom, slick with sweat and glowing in a worrisome sickly way. Bilbo tried to ease his own shaking hands as he wetted a clean cloth. Moving it gently across the dwarfs brow, Bilbo hummed a broken tune in his dry scratchy throat.   
He dipped the cloth in the water once more, wringing it out so it would not drip unpleasantly. It took several tries but at last the cold damp cloth was folded into a neat rectangle. The song died off as his fingers mingled with the scorching heat once again as he placed the compress across the dwarfs burning forehead.   
Bilbo sat in silence watching his slumbering companion. The shadows pulled in tightly, as if to scare off the light and the hope it was want to give to the tiny figure slumped on the stool. The hobbit sighed dropping his face into his palms.   
Shoulders heaved harshly as dry sobs rose in painful waves. The ripping at his already hoarse throat forced him to swallow many times. However he refused to allow a single tear to fall. He would not, he scolded himself, he would not cry while the dwarf still drew breath. You do not weep for living, you weep for the dead.   
New resolve squashed the pain down, as unrelenting as the mythril he still wore beneath his coat. He only sighed again as he rose his eyes back to his charge. "You are in a sorry state Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, King under the Mountain. Let me see to you"   
He didn't move for a time, as if waiting for an answer in the stagnant calm. His eyes never left Thorins face, trapped in a stalemate of pleading. Pleading with the prince to open his eyes, to mumble, to reprimand or even to shout. Pleading that he take his next breath.   
Finally he slipped from the stool once more fishing a fine toothed bone comb from his pocket. Gingerly he removed the beads and plaites from the kings hair, dropping the beads into an empty bowl nearby.   
Dipping the comb into the same cool water he began to carefully relieve the kings mane of its tangles. At first his eyes tracked the bleached white tines as they pulled through an endless sea of black. The stark contrast stood out in the dying light of the used torches in their hollow sconces.  
He stopped his movements often to check that the king still drew breath. The pale tines looked to much like boney fingers clawing at the remaning life that it was many passes before Bilbo settled. Finally sure that there was no change, he settled into his rhythm. The task was comforting and calming and soon Bilbo was chuckling to himself.   
"I remember coming home with my own self in a fit of a mess. Let me tell you Thorin my father was conflicted, aghast at my state of disarray and confused at the amount of the world I dragged home with me. But my mother Lady Belladonna Took…now Belladonna Baggins, she would only smile and sit me down and tell me I was a wicked thing as she set me to rights…."   
Bilbo paused in his work and his words leaning over to place his lips just at the hairline of his sleeping prince. The dampness afforded from the makeshift washing he applied with the comb clung to his lips when he pulled back. His mind was filled with scent of one Thorin Oakensheild.  
Trees and moss and damp and wild things. Heavy and hearty and vital. It mingled with the newer smell of must, ashes and smoke. Somehow Bilbo new that it belonged there and his mind simply absorbed the additions, and corrected the running catalogue that flowed in his mind.   
He had no idea when exactly it had begun but he found he could put a scent description to each and everyone of the company. "You think it odd I know. That I am still here. That I came after you at all but I knew you could beat the dragon sickness my friend. I knew you had when the scent of decay was no longer prevalent in your presence"   
He moved to the side as he began to weave a tight plaite into Thorins hair. The faint smell of lavender escaped from the wet locks and still Bilbo smiled. A little peice of him was tangled in this regal dwarf. A peice he could not argue with or insult in his current state. Something soft and gentle worked into the warrior king.   
"You are wondering how I knew? Well hobbits have an excellent sense of smell my king. Excellent indeed I can place everyone of you"   
With out notice Bilbo began to recite his catalogue aloud. -Bifur always smells just a little bit like pine needles and berries. I imagine from the dye he uses on the toys he makes which are splendid. -Nori and Dori are very similar always smelling vaguely of mint somehow though Nori has the undertones of walnuts and Dori carries hints of sunflower oil. Ori to smells of mint but it is buried under ink and parchment and wool. -Oin smells of rich green herbs and pungent roots but you can find a stale sweetness beneath that. Ginger I think it is. -Gloin always carries a bit of rust with him, rust and salt -Bombur I find hard to be around as he constantly smells of the cheese he is so fond of even when he hasn't had any.   
Bilbo chuckled softly at that, moving on to the middle. -but he also carries the scent of rosemary and dill -Dwalin is all musk and wet fur and roses which seems odd until you know just how often he tends to his blades. -Balin of course carries the same musk but he also carries with him the tang of citrus. Not oranges, more like lemons. -My dear Bofur…all pipe tobacco and wooddust.   
He paused as he moved to the side again. It was difficult to think of the princes though they were both well now and recovering nicely. Their broken bodies had been battered nearly beyond recognition. Yet somehow they had no lasting hurts.   
-Fili …Fili is always wonderful company he will be a fine king Thorin…someday..when the time is right. He carries the scent of warm steal…warm summer nights by the fire and Ale. Not stale and unpleasant, no somehow he always smells like a fresh frothy pint chilled and foaming. Sweating in its fine stein ready for rousing tales and a good sparring match.   
Bilbo found himself sighing again as he finished another braid. His eyes watered as he recalled the first weeks after the battle. How still the sons of durin had lain on their sick beds. How broken they had been. Fili had woken first, and not a force in middle earth had the strength in will or body to move him from his uncle or brother.   
Together they had suffered by their sides waiting for eyes to open. Waiting for voices to lift their spirits and their hearts. To many nights Bilbo found himself woken to the thundering of Filis sobs. His spirit so broken, his heart overflowing in fear, the anguish spilling over his lips wild and unrestrained.   
His pain a bared nerve for the cold dark to toy with. Every time this happened Bilbo took the dwarf prince in his arms, rocking him gently repeating his mantra. "We do not weep for the living Fili, we weep for the dead. Look there Kili breaths his chest rises and falls and rises again. Look there his eyes drift beneath their lids. Kili dreams Fili. He is alive."  
'Look there you fool of a took. Thorin breaths. His chest, its rises and falls and rises again. His eyes dance in his slumber. Thorin is dreaming. He is alive. We do not weep for the living, only for the dead'  
Kili had woken a bit later, and Bilbo had worried that Filis tight hold on the younger dwarf would soon cause more harm. They had indeed cried together then. In joy and love rather then sorrow and Bilbo allowed it though he did not join them.   
-Kili…Fili will have a fine consort there. And you will not be going off and making any fuss when you hear of it upon waking. Every King needs a love like Kili. Loyal, light of spirit but truly devoted. Not consumed by his own happiness but consumed by granting it… Campfire dots his scent as well but with the spice of fall. Early fall when it is the wind that is chilly not the air itself and you long to cuddle up with a warm body and good food beneath a blanket. Laughter and mischief and the leaves just beginning to filter out their emerald tones for rubies and citrines. He also smells of maple, sweet and thick on the back of my throat. Cut through by crisp apples fresh from the tree.   
Bilbo fell silent once more, moving back to the center. He gathered up the three small braids he had done here and started to weave them, pulling the loose braids from the sides at even intervals as he went. "When I was young…Mother used to tell me that I was pinched by a fairy. All Tooks are according to her and my name may be Baggins, but I have her Took blood"   
Once more Bilbo lost himself to his musings. Talking softly to the sleeping king beneath his hands. -I believed her so fully I found I did not just long for adventure but sought it out. Fairy pinches cause restless blood you see, it thrums up in you until you forget to mind your feet.   
So I lived in the woods around the rolling hills. Delighted in climbing the tall trees and stones near the river. Caught my own fish with nets made from vines I found. I strayed often to far, stayed away to late, and came back only after every firefly had fled. I mapped the stars one summer.   
Every single twinkle I could find. I cried buckets when the clouds would roll in until Father sat me down with his books and maps of the world, all courting or birthday gifts from mother. No respectable Baggins would leave long enough to acquire such things.   
I loved them. Somewhere along the way I stopped believing I had been pinched and the books and maps became enough for me. I died a little with my parents when they left me. And I had been alone ever since.   
You and the others, you reminded me that I am just as much Took, if not more so these days, as I am a Baggins. You brought life back into my being. You woke me up Thorin you saved me. You found a fairy to pinch me again, make my blood restless and now I have seen wondrous things.   
Bilbo slipped the last bead back into place and stepped back to admire his work. While most of Thorins ebony hair was still loose and flowing as it ever was, the careful interlocking of the simple braids formed a kind of cage. Still free, but elegant instead of wild and unruley.   
He smiled down at the dwarf who had claimed his loyalty and his heart. Once more he leaned in to press chaste lips to his skin. "Beautiful but its nothing like you, so untamed and feirce. You gave me something worth dieing for but more importantly you gave me a reason to live. I have your heart Thorin Oakensheild. I stole it like the burglar you came searching for so long ago. Wake up soon or I will give it back. Remember your promise"

 

Fili stared at his brothers face as the shadows danced over it in the fire light. Night had fallen long ago but he found it nearly impossible to take his rest. As if he were still trapped in his waking nightmare, void of the essence of Kili. All joy and desire and devotion.   
Leaning forward in his chair, elbows resting lightly on the edge of the bed, he traced the curve of Kilis face. A single calloused fingertip grazing over pale golden skin, soft like fresh leather. Fili watched the fire as it seeped between the space between them igniting the younger dwarf in twilight profile.   
It licked over the shadows like gold, flicking tounges over features long set in stone in Filis mind. Features that once more drew intense study as pain and fear crossed their planes, disturbing the peaceful serenity of rest.   
Filis own face twisted in concern. Panic colored oceans into his blue eyes, so much like his uncles, so different from his brothers. Lines of concern and indecision creased his eyes and the drooping corners of his lips. Dropping his fingers from Kilis face, he searched instead for a single hand.   
He clutched his prize in both of his hands bringing the precious digits to his lips. Eyes never leaving Kilis face he froze where he was. Lips hovering over the still bruised knuckle, thumb tracking over each finger in a soothing absentminded gesture.   
Long skillful fingers, built for accuracy and speed. A quite strength that lended his artistry a lethal sting that made Filis breath catch in his throat. "Do you remember when you first picked up a bow Kili? I remember. I will always remember" Fili paused to watch the wrinkles relax away from the slumbering dwarfs face. A watery smile crawled across his face as he dropped his forehead to those same fingers.   
"It was the spring of my twentieth year, you were not yet seventeen and I was off to my first trials. You were to young but of course… Garaz Izril…rebellious jewel"  
-Kili followed fast behind Fili as he made his way to the training grounds behind Master Dwalins home. He was a year to young to begin training with steal but Fili could see the desire burning behind his eyes. Like smoldering coals catching quick to dry kindling, the flames would either burn in jealousy at being rebuked, or become a wildfire of devotion and determination.   
He simply couldn't find it within himself to leave Kili at home. The younger dwarf nearly skipped along with him, carrying his extra broad sword and bundle. Though the burden was a little heavy for Kili, steadfast in his wish to be useful, he did not complain or slow even when he faltered. He would right himself and return quickly to Filis shadow only ever a few steps behind.   
Fili smiled often on their walk. Any apprehension he had carried about his first trial flew far away as Kili chartered easily. It was pleasant and warm beneath the rare cloudless sky. Having Kili near smoothed the edges of anxiety and joy bubbled up with in him.   
The other dwarves only raised a brow in curiosity as the brothers emerged on the grounds. Dwalin however, crossed his arms and scowled down at the princes as they approached. Fili met his eye in steadfast assurity.  
"My mother is gone on caravan Master Dwalin, and I will not leave him to misadventure in my absence. My training cannot be postponed and duty to my brother cannot be set aside. He will only watch"   
Dwalin regarded the fair haired prince for a long while. His scowl only deepened as he finally nodded his consent. Fili bowed low to the old warrior, grateful for his cooperative mood, before pacing away to ready himself.   
The wind picked up as the dwarf prince and his elder began to circle. Kili sat just outside the fighting ring, very nearly over the boundary line, watching with rapt attention. He carefully followed Filis every swing and parry.   
He cheered wildly when his brother would succeed, and pouted when Dwalin would land his blows. At the end of every match Fili would grant him a smile, quick and fleeting and so warm that Kili barely noticed the chill of the spring afternoon.   
Fili took lunch with him when they braked, and they laughed more then they ate. The sun dappled down through fluffy clouds that floated past and Fili marveled at how it caught the deep mahagony highlights of the younger dwarfs hair and made it shine. In the dark, Kilis hair was such a dark brown it was nearly black.   
Catch it right in the sun however and it came to life with hazelnut, mahogany, walnut and cinnamon. A living thing that shone brightly like a beacon of joy. Like Kili himself.   
The trouble started shortly after their respite. Fili began his wrestling matches, and Kili soon lost interest. In a miraculous feat, Fili managed to toss Dwalin to the ground. He stood above the panting elder, marveling for a moment at his victory. Slowly he turned, his lips curling geny to one side.   
He stopped his torso twisted mid motion independant of his lower body. His grin melting into concern that took his features. Where was Kili. His eyes stared for a moment at the spot on the cold ground where he had spent his morning. "Kili!?"   
The sound was laced with panic. It welled up inside and wrapped around his heart, a solid vice that bruised and ripped. Gloins voice pulled his attention to the far right of the training grounds.  
"Laddie! Best not to touch!" And there he was. Kili in all his curious glory. He cautiously touched a finger to the blades resting on the weapon rack. Tracing hilts and the smooth flats where the glinted in the afternoon sun. Filis heart calmed and he puffed a breath of relief, his lungs rejoicing in the fresh air he pulled in. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath.   
Licking his lips, Fili prepared to call out to the younger dwarf, reminding him to stay close when his already abused heart was forced to pause in its beating. Kili gingerly, almost tenderly, lifted the lone training bow from its place on the rack.   
Fingers ran its outline from bowing curve to string. The wonder shining in his eyes was a fearful thing to behold. As if guided his hand found a sad arrow from the dwindling supply next to the rack. He lifted and knocked it, as of he was meant to do it all his life.   
The shot was loud in the sudden and and deafening silence that thundered in Filis head. He only vaugly registered that Kilis shot had perfectly planted itself center target. He was paralyzed as he watched the red blossom on Kilis cheek.   
The bow string had cut him in his inexperience and the wound stood out proud and taunting against his fair skin. One long leaking gash. The young dwarf whooped in ignorance, to distracted by his obvious success to notice the injury.   
Fili watched on in horror as Kili reached eagerly for another arrow. His body lurched forward jerky and off balance. He stumbled over his own feet tumbling to the ground. He had only just raised his head, his eyes seeking out his brother when thunder echoed.  
"Enough Kili" Thorin stood just outside the shadows of the training grounds. His face blank and stern as it ever was. Kili nearly squeaked as he dropped the bow cringing at the sound of his name. Fili scrambled, his feet fighting for purchase as he inched forward and finally up, lunging to Kilis side. He cupped the dwarfs chin, fear and panic warring on his face.  
"I'm sorry uncle this is all my fault he was my responsibility. I'm so sorry Kili..I should have…I should have…"   
His hands trembled as he tore a peice of cloth from his tunic hem. Kili stared at him in confusion and wonder, still oblivious to his hurt, until Fili pressed the cloth to his face. The startled whine tore his heart from his chest, still beating and bruised, and he pulled back.   
It was his turn to wear the mantle of shock and wonder when Kili gently placed his small hand on Filis and guided it back. Resolve flooded his features as silent tears stung his eyes, but to his credit the youngest amongst them made not even one more sound as he was tended.   
Fili sat with him through it all, their uncles gaze never wavering from them. At last with his care complete Thorin approached. He stared down at Kili who stubbornly stared back. Fili for his part wanted to shrink away with his brother to some lonesome place. "Get up boy"   
The words from Thorin were kinder then Fili expected them to sound but he rose up with Kili, determined to intervene if need be. Kili stepped away from Fili pulling his hand from his grip and stood tall at their uncles feet. As Thorin raised his hand Fili braced for a blow he was certain he would feel, even though it was not meant for his flesh.  
It did not come. Instead, the bow was placed in Kilis hands once more and he was gently turned toward the targets. Thorin kneeled and Fili watched as he guided Kilis stance, urging his feet apart, correcting his hips and torso and adjusting his hands.   
The grey light filtered down still finding a way to shimmer in the chestnut and oak of the younger dwarfs wild hair. Hair that glistned darkly where its ling strand mingled with the blood on his face. Fili watched with apprehension as Thorin tutuored Kilis body with his large hands, uncertainty and hope warring within is heart.   
The arrow flew with a gentle whistle, striking right down the center of its predecessor. The string whispered past the soft flesh of Kilis cheek brushing it sweetly. No mar left in its wake. Intimate fingertips sweetly grazing their lovers face. 

Fili lifted his eyes from the furs, giving the hand he still clutched a squeeze. "You made me a whole clutch of hawk feather arrows that very week" Fili froze as dark chocolate eyes stared back at him. Unwavering despite a misting glistening on their rim.   
"I shot them until my fingers bled and you made me an archers gauntlet" Kili turned his hand in Filis and wound their fingers. Pulling the gilded skin to his lips he kissed the knuckles sweetly. Fili stared in awe at the gesture as his thumb caressed the thinnest white scar striking a line, barely visible now, down his brothers cheek.   
"I will take care of you"   
"No, my one" Kilis voice was warm, seeping into all the places aching and injured inside of him as the fire cracked and popped in the darkness. "We will take care of each other. My only …until the end of our days" 

The room grew warm as the company crowded in. They settled around their burglar and sleeping king. Food was passed carefully, for the sake of their hobbit, and set aside carefully once plates and bowls were filled.   
The chilled ale felt wonderful against his raw throat as Bilbo sat on his stool. One hand still held Thorins, the other gingerly lifting his to large cup. His eyes wondered over his new friends and family.   
Eyes briefly locked with the burning ice blue eyes, so like the ones he wished would open to him, yet so different. Bilbo made his best effort to keep the pain from his face, but Filis quickly averted gaze told him just how unsuccessful he had been. Kili, snuggled close to his side, spared Bilbo a pitious glance. The hobbit smiled sadly back at the pair before he dropped his eyes to his mug.   
Low conversations flowed easily around the royal pair as Bilbo watched them all. The glow from the great fireplace cast a ethereal light over the gathering, blessed gifts now earthbound and unexpectedly his. The rhythmic pops and snap of the smoldering logs punctuated the stunted laughter as it made its rounds.   
Old and new stories fell from tired smiles. True and fairy tales a like slid out in the gathering darkness of the first winter nights. A particularly funny story about a wayward lass in the shire passed awkwardly over the company's head as Bilbo sat, and unsteady chuckle trickling from his pale lips. He fidgeted under their blank stares.   
He wanted to jump down from his stool and hide, burrow into so hole or crevice deep in the dark where his diffrentness would go unnoticed. Until his hand was squeezed. Bilbo went rod straight and pale as he felt the gesture loosen and a thumb stroke the back of his hand.   
He heard his name from somewhere, the voice laced with concern and wonder but he couldn't aknowldge it. Slowly his head turned to the sleeping dwarf next to him.   
Only he was not sleeping. Blue eyes like sapphire oceans stared up at warm honey in the fire light. "Would you tell another one my hobbit" scratchy and soft from disuse the sound hit the stone walls like crystal echos. All eyes settled on the king under the mountain, now finally awake, but he only had eyes for his burglar.


End file.
